


PTA Dads

by GenericAlien



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Dads AU, M/M, PTA dads, logicality - Freeform, logicality dads, pta dads au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-08 04:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18886753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenericAlien/pseuds/GenericAlien
Summary: (Originally posted to my tumblr @haveyourselfamerrylittlebitchmas)Professor Logan White leaves his old teaching job for a position at a community college in a smaller city. Everything seems to be going pretty well; he bought a lovely new house, his son adjusted to the new school easily, and his new job is relaxed--enjoyable, even. What he isn't prepared for is the surprisingly kind vice president of the PTA and the feelings that ensue.  Logan is sure of one thing-- it's entirely unreasonable for love at first sight to exist.But stranger things have happened: after all, we did land a man on the moon.(Also I never made a real title and I refuse to do so now)





	1. Mingle

**Author's Note:**

> I dislike most angst and demanded fluffy dads that suck at communicating; I guess I have to do everything myself! Also I wanted a dad fic that doesn't make Logan out to be a cold and uncaring father because Logan has so much LOVE, he just sucks at expressing it to new people. So he loves the heck out of his son, he just can't date lol (Also I'll fix this some day and make my descriptions and notes legible, but for now I am goofing around and writing for my own enjoyment)

Logan had really only joined the PTA to make sure that the state reading requirements were being taught, but it spiraled into a lot more. 

It went from simply trying to make sure there was weekly vocabulary lessons all the way to noticing the children were all ill-prepared for the state testing. One month into the school year, and the children were already extremely behind on the science requirements.  
Logan's son, Roman, had many ideas when it came to his father joining the PTA. He wanted his dad to push for more after school clubs-- for the theater program to get better funding, really-- and for the music classes to be allowed more than 5$ recorders. He wanted to spend the year learning ukulele or guitar, rather than a single week-long unit where there were 4 kids to a guitar. However, the father and son had very different ideas.

And of course, being too interested in the state testing requirements is what landed him here: an elementary school PTA meeting, with a Styrofoam cup of unflavored, weak coffee in hand. If he was in his office at the local community college, he’d be grading College Comp. 1101-01/02 thesis papers-- his freshmen class. While neither option was particularly thrilling, he was certain of one thing: there was better coffee on campus. 

“Good afternoon, parents. We’d like to thank our returning members as well as parents new to the association for your attendance.” an all-too cheerful man greeted everyone. From one glance around the room, one thing was apparent: all of the single moms here definitely liked him.  
“Before we get started, I’d like to announce that we will always have a staff member offering free child care in a separate room. Weather permitting, ch-” Logan began to tune the man out, staring idly at his black coffee. He wondered what Roman had got up to? Possibly weaseled his way into the music room. Maybe attempting sports. Definitely causing trouble for whatever poor staff member was left with the task of keeping an eye on them.  
The though both amused Logan, as well as struck a slight fear into him. 

“Oh! I almost forgot! I only see a few new faces, so I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Patton Beckett, I’ve been part of the PTA for 5 years now, and I’m excited to make this year just as amazing as the last!”  
“Where’s Cindy?” A feminine voice piped up from somewhere behind Logan.  
“She should be here soon! She asked me to start the meeting for her and that she’s on her way I guess they finally started building that roundabout off the freeway.” Patton smiled. Several murmurs of agreement scattered throughout the crowd. As much as Logan hated to admit it, this guy was a natural leader. 

The door in the back of the room opened to reveal a tall thin blond woman. She was dressed sharp, her bobbed haircut perfectly sprayed and pinned into place. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she walked a quick rhythm across the cheap linoleum floor.  
“Hello, Ms. Anderson!” Patton smiled. The stone-cold woman actually cracked a pleasant smile across her thin red lips and waved at the room. She walked up the steps to the stage and took her rightful place at the podium. Patton took a seat in the front row right next to Logan.  
“Who is that?” Logan asked quietly. Patton looked almost startled.  
“Hello! You must be new. I’m P-”  
“I was here for your introduction.” Logan assured him. Patton smiled nervously and took a sip of his water. Logan acted like he didn’t notice how uncomfortable that exchange was, but he inwardly grimaced as soon as the sentence left his mouth.  
‘Great. First person that tried to talk to me probably thinks I’m a huge asshole.’ He thought.

“Anyway, that is Cynthia Andrews. Most of the parents here call her Cindy. She’s the current PTA president. I promise, she’s not half as scary as she wants you to think.” Patton reassured, that uncomfortable feeling still clinging to the air around them. Patton began cleaning his classes. Logan noted that they have the same frames.

“Hello, welcome to the first PTA meeting of the year. I’m sure Mr. Beckett already welcomed you and introduced you to the association, so I suppose we should get on to the more important matters at hand.”  
“How should we voice our ideas and concerns about the school?” another female voice behind them sounds.  
“Because it is so early in the school year, there’s not much we can bring up to the school board until the first official meeting next week. This meeting is just so we can make sure we have everyone's contact information and it’s a bit of an opportunity for us as well as our children to mingle and get to know other members of our community.” Cynthia smiled apologetically.  
After many more parents with too much time on their hands asked multiple self-explanatory questions, Cynthia dismissed everyone to mingle with the other parents. Upon dismissal, Patton turned to Logan and smiled.

“Hey, so what did yo-”  
“Mr. Beckett? I need your help with something.” The PTA president called, cutting him off. Logan would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious why Patton was so interested in talking to him, but he was also slightly glad he didn’t find out. Socializing is not his strong suit. 

Logan left the auditorium and made his way to the playground where Roman should be. (On his way, he noticed numerous parents already pulling out of the parking lot, directly disobeying Cynthia's request.) After scanning the playground for only a moment, he spotted his ten year old kicking a soccer ball around with 4 other boys. At some point, a girl showed up and asked to join. All of the boys seemed adverse to this idea, but Roman shut them all down and passed her the ball. Logan felt pride welling up in his chest upon seeing how kind his son could be, even in the face of peer pressure.

A few parents introduced themselves to Logan, others just slightly waved on their way out. At some point, Logan noticed a smaller child in a purple hoodie, sitting beside one other child. He continually glanced back over to check on the child, concerned for the child’s social activity. Was the child bullied? Or just a loner?  
‘Well that’s rich, coming from the only parent sitting alone right now.’ Logan thought, mentally kicking himself for being such a hypocrite. Logan was a loner as a child himself, and he turned out fine.  
“Oh, hey! It’s me- from earlier.” Patton waved a little, sitting on the bench beside Logan. 

Logan felt slightly irritated with the man. He wasn’t sure why.  
‘Oh my god. Doesn’t this guy know that I have no idea how to talk to people? That failed auditorium interaction should have been proof enough-’

“Sorry about earlier! Just between you and me, I think it’s obvious who’s really running the PTA,” he winked. Logan wasn’t sure how to respond to that statement (or wink).  
“Which one is yours?” Logan asked casually. Patton perked up at the subject and smiled.  
“That one! In the purple sweater.” Patton smiled wide.  
“Those are some pretty dark colors for a kid his age, aren’t they?” Logan asked, noticing the child was wearing all black, aside from the splash of purple provided by his hoodie.  
“I thought so too! Usually 9 year old kids wear much brighter clothes. I think a lot of them are even wearing neon right now? But I love my dark, strange son, so I figured I could live with his clothing choices.” Patton shrugged. “Which one is yours?”  
Just as Logan was about to gesture to his son, there was no Roman to be seen.  
“He’s… somewhere. If you hear a child burst out into pretty much any song from the stage musical adaptation of Aladdin, that’s him.” Logan explained, scanning for his son again. “I JUST saw him playing soccer in that group, but he likes to jump between friend groups quite often. He might be playing house somewhere.”  
“Well that’s nice! I wish my little Virgil could be like that.” Patton said, a forlorn expression flashing across his face. Logan felt puzzled. After all, Patton seemed to be the kind of person who is 110% okay with every kind of person. Upon noticing Logan, Patton blushed a little, looking rather flustered.  
“Oh no, I mean, he’s perfect the way he is. I just feel like it would do him good to have more friends, you know? Every child could do with more friends. It’s just… he only has one friend, and when he’s not at school, Virgil doesn’t want to go either. I just have no idea what to do sometimes.” Patton looked over to his son, who was waving as his friend left. “It’s really hard, you know? Kinda wish I had someone to bounce ideas off of.”  
“I’m right there with you.” Logan murmured. He internally noted that Patton was a single parent, full custody.  
‘Why the hell do I care?’ Logan thought. ‘I have no idea who this guy is. I’m not benefiting in any way from recognizing these details. Hell, I’ll probably never talk to him again! Right?,’

A boy in a red t-shirt ran by, swinging around a stick wildly, startling both men.  
“Please slay the dragon, Prince!” A girl squealed from up on top of the monkey bars.  
“That would be my boy.” Logan said, feeling mildly concerned. Patton just smiled.  
“If he was a Disney prince, which one would he be?”  
“Definitely Philip from Sleeping Beauty.” Logan said with a smile. He was absolutely certain of this one.  
“Why’s that?”  
“Prince Philip,” Logan starts, “is the only prince to actually fight a dragon-”  
“Sorceress!” Patton cuts him off. “Maleficent is a sorceress.”  
“Sorceress, evil queen, dragon-witch-- all the same thing to me.” Logan shrugged.  
“And anyway, what does fighting a dragon have to do with anything?”  
“If you knew my son, you’d know the dragon is pretty much the biggest selling point.” Logan shook his head. “How about your kiddo? Is he a Disney fan?”  
“Who isn’t?” Patton chuckled, glancing around for his kid. “And if he was a Disney prince… he’d actually be Jack Skellington, Pumpkin King.”  
“Not a prince,” Logan countered. “But go on?”  
“Color scheme. Plus, Virgil can never decide if he likes Halloween or Christmas more.” Patton proclaimed, grinning.  
‘Those aren’t even… real qualities to him as a character.’ Logan thought, speechless. He was waiting for something about childlike wonder, unwavering dedication, or unlimited creativity. But all Patton provided was essentially aesthetic.  
“I want to fight you on this-- so bad-- but I don’t know how I should even start.” Logan admits, watching the cheery man beside him smile even harder. It was like Patton was too cute to argue with, and Logan couldn’t bring himself to rain on his parade.

‘Oh fuck. He’s cute. That’s what this is.’ Logan realized, his face starting to heat up a little. It was all starting to make sense. The way he made a mental note of even the smallest things about him, all the way up to the fact that he’s single. 'Has he been flirting with me?’  
‘I need to leave. That is the only logical option when a cute guy talks to me.’  
“Roman, we should get going.” Logan calls to his son, who is miraculously only a few yards away at that moment in time. Roman drops the stick he’s holding and says goodbye to his friends. As Logan is getting up, he tries to avoid looking at Patton, but ends up glancing back at the cardigan-clad man.  
“I’ll see you next week, then? For the next meeting?” Patton asks, a quizzical smile playing on his lips.  
“Of course. I’ll be there.” Logan confirms, glancing at his watch.  
He left without another word.

As he drove home and tuned out Romans mindless rambling, he was thinking about the slightly-shorter man. The way he only ever adjusted his glasses on the left hand side. The way he smiled when he talked about his son, who he was a polar opposite to. The way he winked as if his unofficial leadership was truly a secret between the two of them-- everyone in that room knew Patton was the acting president.  
Patton Beckett. Basically the PTA president. Unbelievably cute. Inexplicably single. 

“I didn’t even tell him my name. Oh my god. I’m an idiot.” Logan realized, stunned.


	2. Anxiety

Patton just wanted the name of the beautiful man with glasses beside him, but it seemed that he didn’t really want to exchange pleasantries at all; if there was one thing Patton was good at, it was reading people. And the guy didn’t seem like he intended to be as sharp-tongued as he came across.

It had been a week since Patton had last sat beside the linguist on that park bench, and he wanted to know everything about him. So far Patton was only about 80% sure of one thing: he’s single.

Patton really had tried everything. He scrolled through his recommended friends on Facebook, he attempted looking through the school yearbook from the year before, and he even tried checking the contact listing for the PTA. Every attempt turned up blank.  
According to Virgil, Roman was new to the school that year. Virgil only knew his last name started with a W. Facebook was unfruitful, and the guy must have just missed the clipboard when it was passed around the room at the last meeting because Patton read the list until his eyes were sore and still didn’t find an unfamiliar name.

‘Why am I even trying so hard? Even if he does like guys, nothing is saying he’d like me.’ Patton thought. He attempted to shake off the negativity, but it was a little too real at this point. All his previous attempts in dating were unsuccessful. Whenever he wanted to give his heart to somebody, they were either straight or uninterested in dating a man with a child; Patton personally never understood the latter, because ever since he was young, his dream job was to be a dad. However, Patton had a good feeling about this guy: he was a dad himself, and that was half the battle right there.

Patton briskly walked down the hallway and into the auditorium, where only a few parents resided. He was pretty early but began to set up anyway. As he neatly arranged the pile of meeting outlines by the door and handed them to the few parents that were early, he continually glanced at the clock and door, waiting for the mysterious man to show up.

Patton knew Cynth was exhausted after work, so he had to practically beg her to stay home. ‘You are my best friend,’ he had told her, ‘and as your best friend, I cannot allow you to organize and run a meeting. You’d get burned out! I got this!’ Patton was determined to run the meeting alone, no matter what. Cynthia just teased him about wanting to look cool for ‘that one guy’ he was ‘obsessing over last week.’ Patton denied this. She proceeded to call them ‘Mr. and Mr. Beckett,’ which flustered Patton and further proved her point.  
‘Why would he change his last name to mine? What if he has a cooler last name?’ He had asked.  
Sure, Patton believed in love at first sight. However, he had never heard of planning change a man's last name to yours if you’d never even heard his.

‘God, I have it bad.’ Patton thought with a sigh. As he heard the door open, he spun on his heel to meet the gaze of the blue-eyed man in the doorway.  
“Am I too early?” He asked, uncharacteristically flustered. “I could have sworn I was pretty close to the correct time-”  
“You’re perfect. I mean, you have perfect timing!” Patton smiled enthusiastically. “We have about ten minutes before the meeting officially starts. I’ll be running it myself today.”  
“Well, that’s exciting. It should certainly be much more straightforward than Cynthia's last week.”  
“If straight is what you’re looking for, I have some bad news.” Patton giggled at his own joke, hoping he got his hint. The man in front of him blushed and laughed. 

‘Oh my goodness! There’s still hope-- He might like me too!’ Patton thought, his heart skipping double dutch. He felt a small pain in his soul when the realization hit him: ‘I literally don’t even know this guy. I can’t like him this much; that’s not how adult relationships work. Plus, he laughed. Just a laugh. That doesn’t mean he’s into men, Patton.’

“How are you and Virgil this week?”  
“We’re doing well, thanks for asking! How are you and Roman?”  
“Oh don’t get me started on that kid....” He rolled his eyes with a small grin. “He drives me absolutely insane. Don’t let me be misunderstood, I love him to pieces. But… he’s so EXTRA.”  
“Wow! I would have never expected you to be one to try modern lingo.”  
“If I’m completely honest, I only do it because it embarrasses Roman. I picked up a few things from my students,” he admits, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck.  
“Oh, you’re a teacher?”  
“Professor, actually. I teach at the community college. I just transferred here from the cities.”  
“Oh neat! What subject?”  
“English.”  
“Oh cool! English was my strong suit! I can memorize definitions pretty easily.”  
“I’m jealous. I misused a word in a lecture last week and the students will never let me live it down.” he shook his head. “Enough about me. What’s your profession?”  
“Developmental psychologist and behavioral therapist.”  
“Oh. A man of science?”  
“I guess so! I really wasn’t until college though.” Patton shrugs a little.

After a few minutes of discussion about the weather (because it really was quite windy out), Patton finally switches to “Do you have any pets?”  
“No. You?”  
“A cat! She’s technically Virgil's. I’m allergic, so I said Virgil could only have a cat if he promised to take care of the cat himself.” Patton says, pulling out his cellphone and tapping onto a folder labeled ‘Cats.’ Pulling up a picture of a small, long-haired black cat, he turned the phone brightness up and handed it to the taller man.  
“Virgil… has a cat, yet you’re allergic?” he chuckled, an incredulous expression painting his face.  
“Well, sure!”  
“Um… that is rather counterproductive, wouldn’t you say?”  
“I like cats,” Patton starts, “And Virgil is really more comfortable with cats than dogs, so I figured I can just be sure to keep my bedroom and office cat-free zones and take allergy medicine as needed.”  
“That’s a HORRIBLE idea.”  
“I don’t think so.” Patton grins, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Are you a cat person or a dog person?”  
“Um… I’m more of a cat person, I guess. They’re very independent. I’d assume you’re more of a dog person?”  
“I have no idea if I’m more of a cat person or a dog person if I’m entirely honest.” Patton shrugged. “I like them both so much!”  
“I hate to cut our conversation short, but the meeting is supposed to start shortly.”  
“Oh. Drat.” Patton said, looking at the clock across the room. “I suppose you’re right.”  
“We can talk after.” The man reassures him. Patton just smiles and turns on the ball of his foot and paces across the room to the podium on the short stage. He waits for the last few stragglers to be seated before clearing his throat and speaking up.

“Hello, everyone. I’ll be running the meeting today. First thing on the agenda: we have a discussion about the curriculum in preparation for state standardized testing this spring.”  
Patton is a little nervous-- usually, parents don’t want to discuss actual classroom issues. They generally want to tackle the issue of bullying or school district lunch menus. If he’s completely honest, he may be the least qualified person in the room to discuss academics.  
When he looks out across the small sea of parents, he makes slight eye contact with the professor. When he gives him a small thumbs up, he can’t help but smile and decide to do his best to pull it off.

Surprisingly, all goes well. Whenever Patton isn’t sure what to say, he can usually ask his crush-- one of the only educators in the room, for some inexplicable reason-- and he has suggestions to bring up to the school board. Everybody actually seems to like his ideas, which is a first. The rest of the meeting proceeds smoothly, and Patton sends his notes to Cynthia. Just as he’s gathering his things in his book bag, he notices the socially-awkward butterfly walking his way. 

The professor was actually dressed much more casually than last time. Today he was wearing an open-collared white shirt with a fitted, patterned grey sports coat over it. During the presentation, Patton decided he could safely take a glance at the rest of his ensemble and was delightfully surprised to know that he does indeed wear jeans with his professional attire.  
Patton always liked that look. Or at least, he was pretty sure he did. It could also be something he had made up in his mind just now after seeing it. He felt like he had always been in love with the man by this point, but knew that he had only met him a week ago, so he decided that when it came to this man, he couldn't rely on any facts his heart provided.

And there was the fact that he still had no idea what his name was.  
‘Shit. That should have been the first thing I asked when he walked in.’ Patton cussed himself out. ‘I guess late is better than never.’

“Hey, so you never told me-” He started, getting cut off at the same time.  
“Want to j-”  
“Oh, no you first.” Patton smiled.  
“I was just going to ask if you wanted to walk outside with me.”  
“Of course!” He said, feeling butterflies.  
‘Why do I get so excited when this guy so much as looks at me?’ Patton thought, glancing at the time. ‘We are friends. Sort of. Nothing more. I literally don’t even know his name. Would it be weird to ask his name now? Probably.’

The duo reclaimed the blue bench they had the week prior and shivered slightly with one particularly large gust of wind.  
“Roman better be wearing his sweater.” The other father says, craning his neck. “He always ends up taking it off, even when it’s too cold for just a T-shirt.”  
“I’d be concerned if I ever saw Virgil without a sweater. He wears hoodies even when it’s far too warm for one.”  
Much like last time, Roman runs by with a small group of kids following suit. The man beside him breathes a sigh of relief upon seeing he is indeed wearing his sweatshirt.

“Well, it looks like whatever game he’s made up, it’s gotta be interesting enough to get that kind of following!” Patton says, still slightly surprised at how easily the little prince makes friends.  
“He’s wonderful. I just wish he could put some of that creative energy into school somehow.” The linguist sighed. “I wish he could put half as much effort into mathematics as he does musicals, you know?”  
“Well, having an outside interest to school is always a good thing,” Patton says, twirling a fallen leaf by the stem between his index finger and thumb. “It can be frustrating to see that he’s not thriving in the areas you want him to, and the best way to address it is to have a conversation with him about it.”  
“I’ve tried that.” The man beside him groaned.  
“Was it truly a conversation? Or was it a lecture?”  
“I’m... not quite sure.”  
“For starters, I’d suggest finding out what his definition or bored is,” Patton says, letting the leaf fall to the ground. “I’ve found that often times, kids use the word bored much differently from adults because they don’t quite have the vocabulary to express what they’re feeling. Try finding out if the work in class is considered boring because he already knows it, doesn’t understand the material, or if he’s having difficulty focusing.”  
“Is that your professional opinion?”  
“Nope! I’m off the clock, and I’m not 100% impartial to the situation. However, it’s probably what you’d hear from any other behavioral therapist.” Patton says as he shakes his head.  
“Well… Thank you. Sometimes I think I don’t know the first thing about parenting.”  
“You’re doing a great job-”

At that moment, Virgil pulled his dad's cardigan sleeve, looking rather pale. Patton took one look at his child and instantly felt guilty for not immediately noticing him.  
“I wanna go home now…” he mumbled lightly. Patton took a second to investigate the situation.  
‘Okay. Let’s see. There aren’t any other children that have taken notice, and Virgil isn’t being picked on as far as I know, so it’s probably not social? No. I know it’s not social. This isn’t a situation that would affect him in particular like this… He’s paler than usual, and his breathing is off. He looks so drained. I can’t figure out what would be directly causing this unless it’s one of his panic attacks relating to his generalized anxiety.”  
Patton took a breath and used the calmest demeanor he could muster up; his eyes were soft and his actions were much less energetic than before. He spoke softly and moved in very predictable patterns, allowing for enough reaction time for Virgil to move away from touch sensations if he wanted to.

“Come here, buddy. I’m just talking to our friend. Let’s breathe for a second and then we’ll head to the car, okay?”  
Virgil sat on the bench between the two adults.  
“Breathe in for 4 seconds… hold it for 7. Now breathe out for 8.” Patton said calmly, breathing the same way.  
“Dad, I don’t think I can,” Virgil said, his voice sounding like a whine. Patton slowly wraps an arm around the shaking child.  
“Tell me five things you can see.”  
“.....” Virgil was starting to lose it a little.  
“Come on, buddy. Where are you sitting right now?”  
“The… next to you,” Virgil said, rubbing his eyes with his sweater sleeve.  
“That’s right. So, what am I’m wearing?”  
“The shirt thing,” he said, trying to slow his breathing.  
“Good job, kiddo. Keep going. What’s another thing?”  
“Um… watch. Your watch.”  
“Awesome. You’re doing great. What’s one more thing you can see?”  
“The bench.” He said slowly. Patton knew this was a good sign: whenever he could start to get his mind back to the rest of the world and away from just the two of them, he knew progress was being made.  
“Good job, Virgil. What else can you see?”  
“There’s a bird.”  
“How about 4 things you can touch?”  
“My sweater… the grass… your glasses…”  
Patton paused and watched his sons gaze glance around quickly.  
“It can be big or small.” Patton coaxed.  
“The flagpole.”  
“3 things you can hear.”  
“My heart... the kids over there… a bird.”  
“2 things you can smell.”  
“Your fabric softener, and the grass.”  
“One thing you can taste.” Patton asked, prepared for an answer of ‘nothing.’ Most people ended up skipping a taste sensation when doing the exercise to calm down.  
“Mint.”  
“What? How?”  
“You gave me a piece of gum when we got here.” He reminded his dad with a quizzical look. The 10-year-old still looked worse for wear but seemed to be a bit calmer.  
“Ready to head home?” Patton asked. Virgil nodded.  
Patton stood and reached into his messenger bag, pulling out a fidget and giving it to Virgil, who joined him in getting up.

“Sorry for leaving on such short notice,” Patton apologized, “but I’ll see you at the choir concert on Friday, right?”  
“Oh- Yes.”  
“It was nice talking to you again.” the other man admitted, tugging at a grey sleeve.  
“It was nice talking to you too, Mr….” Patton prompted.  
“Logan White. I never did tell you my name, did I?” He said, his cheeks tinting a few shades redder.  
“It was a fun little mystery.”  
“Well, good luck, Watson. There are plenty more mysteries here to solve.” Logan chuckled, waving slightly as Patton was led away by the hand.

Patton's heart felt like it might burst out of his chest. He finally learned his name.  
‘I guess I’m going to do my best to change his name to Logan Beckett, then.’ he thought with a smile.


	3. Potions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one is short but I needed more good dad logan in my life and you did too

Chapter Three - Potions  
“Ready to go home?” A grass stained Roman asked, his knees caked in dirt and a stray leaf in his hair.  
“What in the world happened to you?” Logan asked, silently determining the best plan of action to remove the stains. The shirt could probably be salvaged with cold water and a tide stick. The jeans… might need a little more elbow grease. And maybe ammonia.  
“What do you mean?” Roman asked. After a few moments of silence he said “Oh. Yeah. I was a little careless when slaying the dragon. Sorry…”  
“It’s alright. I’m a pretty good wizard. I’m sure one of the restoration potions should do the trick.” Logan smiled, playing further into Romans game. The child perked up.  
“Yeah! I have the smartest royal-wizard ever!”  
Logan couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride when his son grinned from ear to ear like that. They may be very different, but he still knew how to add himself into the story.  
Logan may not be a prince, or a dragon-- hell, he’s not even the king, and his SON is the prince-- but he knew it was logical for him to be the wizard. The wizard was smart. He could fix anything that went wrong. It was the wizards job to prepare the prince for the challenges that awaited him in the real world.  
Logan could do that.  
After all, he was a “strong, independent dad who don’t need no man” as Roman had once so eloquently put it.

This drive home was much more pleasant than the last one. Logan finally remembered to tell Patton his name, and he would be seeing him again in just a few days at the children's “choir” concert. (Of course he knew it wasn't just choir: There would be recorder. There was always recorder.) Logan couldn’t remember the last time he was excited to interact with another human.

As they pulled into the driveway, Roman was already unbuckling his seat belt, ready to go off on another adventure. When the car came to a stop, Roman pushed open the door and rushed out.

“Change into something clean before you track dirt through the house! And leave your dirty clothes in the laundry room, please!” Logan called after his son. Roman didn’t reply, already off in a fantasy world. Craning his neck out the door, Logan caught a small glimpse of red as Roman disappeared around the side of the house and into the backyard. ‘At least I don’t have to worry about dirt in the house just yet,’ Logan thought with a sigh.

Logan took extra time to be sure he locked his car and entered the house, sighing in exhaustion as he kicked off his dress shoes and slunk over to his chair. Allowing himself to close his eyes for a few moments, he breathed in the cool breeze from the slightly ajar window and listened to the distant sounds of the neighborhood.  
Logan thoroughly enjoyed his home, even if it did feel too spacious for just him and his son. Every bit of the house-- from the front porch to the window over the kitchen sink that looked out into the backyard-- was exactly what Logan had always pictured. While he would never say it out loud, he had always imagined more kids in the yard.  
Every day, Logan grew more attached to the city, and was grateful he had decided to take a risk for once in his life with this move. It was almost working too perfectly, he thought. Roman seemed to be content with the move; He had many more friends here. The house was amazing, the job was manageable, and the PTA wasn’t half bad. And aside from leaving in a gay panic the first day they met-- when he realized he fell in love at first sight like a child-- everything was going really well with Patton, too. 

After hearing a particularly concerning clunk outside, Logan decided to get up and check on his child. He used to be a hovering parent, always checking over Romans shoulder, fretting over every bump and bruise. As Roman had gotten older, however, Logan had determined that the boy was indestructible. 

Upon peering out the window, Logan saw his son waving a tall stick around.

Logan knocked on the window lightly to get the attention of the young prince, who upon noticing, charged over. Logan opened the window.  
“Hey there, little prince.” Logan greeted him.  
“It’s the royal wizard! I need a potion!” Roman exclaimed,  
“For what, your highness?”  
“Fire resistance.”  
“Best I can do is water, champ.” Logan said, dropping the grandeur voice.  
“Daaaaad.” Roman whined.  
“Alright, alright. I shall help you concoct a fire resistance potion.” Logan agreed, thoughtfully. Grabbing a pair of tennis shoes and putting them on at the back door, he noticed Roman was already eagerly bouncing in place.

Roman grabbed an old ice cream bucket and awaited the order. It was almost like a game of I spy for the duo: Logan decided on a plant in the yard and used the scientific name, and over time, Roman learned which ones were which. When they moved to the new house, Logan had to learn a few new names, but he didn’t mind too much. It was educational, after all, and it made him look smart.

“First, I’d like some of the fresh water from the mountains. The aqueducts you have made should make the job considerably easier.” He said. Roman nodded and rushed headfirst around the side of the house to where the hose resided. He came back with the ice cream bucket, some of the water sloshing out the sides with each strained bend of the handle.  
“Now what?” Roman asked, looking rather giddy.  
“Sorbus aucuparia.” Logan said. Roman bounded off into the yard and immediately went to the mountain ash tree. The mountain ash had always been one of Logan's favorite trees, so most of the potions required it. He loved the contrast of the dark green against the vibrant fruits. It made him wonder how something so vibrant could still be so bitter.  
“What next?”  
“Just Eupatorium fistulosum.” Logan decided. Roman rushed off in search of the pink plant. Mere seconds later, he flew back and threw one into the bucket. Roman stirred to potion with the stick while Logan pretended to say some gibberish that sounded oddly similar to Klingon, and they determined together that the potion was done. Roman picked up the bucket and splashed a section of the yard in it, dousing the dragon witch's powers.  
Logan knew that technically, he was causing harm to his lawn this way, by drowning the grass. But he didn’t really care after that first time and he saw what joy it brought Roman. ‘Grass grows back whenever; children only grow up once,’ he recalled deciding.

“Royal wizard! Can you cast a protection spell around the palace?”  
“Certainly, your highness.” he said, grabbing a random stick and waking a ‘whooshing’ noise.  
Logan was aware that he turned his child into a nerd. ‘But an adorable nerd,’ he thought.  
After the two of them raced around the yard for a good 15 minutes, they both decided it was time for dinner and went inside. (Logan immediately made Roman change his clothes, which was fair.)

‘Oh my god. My back hurts. I am actually getting old.’ Logan thought. ‘This is why people have more than one kid. So they can play together. So the parents don’t throw out their backs.’

Logan still didn’t have any dinner plans. He rifled through the cupboards for something that sounded good and required no energy, but came across nothing particularly appetizing. Roman came into the kitchen and sat at the island.  
“Roman, do you have any dinner ideas?” He asked. Romans eyes lit up.  
“Can we get a pizza?”  
“Pizza it is.” Logan nodded.  
“Wow! We haven’t had pizza since we moved in! And that was like… 3 months ago.”  
“I am an adult. I can choose when to buy pizza.” Logan waved him off. “And pizza sounds like a great idea.”  
“You’re in a good mood. I’m not gonna look a gift Pegasus in the mouth though.” He shrugs. Logan already knows that Roman is going to pester him about Patton later, but is thankful that his hopeless romantic of a son is going to wait on it.

“We should go the store and buy popcorn too! And a movie!” Roman suggested excitedly. Logan thought about the papers he still had to grade; He had left them in his office, but thought about getting them anyway. ‘It’s only 6pm. I’m certain that there’s still time to grab them. I think there’s even a few classes right now.’ he thought. But after seeing Romans face, he decided against it. ‘I’m not just a professor. I’m somebody's dad. And as his sole parent, it’s up to me to make sure his childhood is as good as I can possibly make it.’  
“Is your homework done?” Logan asks. Once Roman assured that he had, Logan simply nodded. Roman stood up in excitement, throwing his hands in the air. “Let’s be quick. It’s a school night.” Logan adds, grabbing his car keys. 

Later into the evening after Roman heads off to bed, Logan is organizing his bag for his classes the next day. Cultural values thesis papers from his freshmen, Microhistory essays from his advanced composition class, and his outline from the PTA meeting. 

Just as he was about to discard it, he noticed contact information on the other side.  
Would it be creepy to contact Patton out of the blue? Probably.  
Logan knew next to nothing about socializing, but he knew that was creepy.  
So it was time for a lie! A small lie.

“Hey, your number was on the meeting outline. This is Logan. I had a question about next week's meeting. There’s already a school board meeting the next day, which doesn’t leave us much more room for discussion on anything that can be brought up.”  
Logan was kind of scared to send it. Was it too long winded and formal for a text? ‘Maybe I should cut the text down to 2 sentences or less,’ he thought, ‘Should I try-’  
Too late. He hit send. 

“Omg! Hi!” Patton texts back. Another text is immediately followed,  
“Meeting next week is cancelled, I’ll send out a mass email. Thank you for the reminder!”  
Logan was tempted to try to continue the conversation, but felt that the conversation had a very final feeling to it. Just as he’s about to set down his phone, it chimes again.  
“How was your day?”


	4. Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have messed up so bad. Edited previous chapters and I now must clarify: the boys are 9, almost 10. I think I listed like 4 different ages and uhh yep.  
> Also I wrote most of this while stressed and sleep deprived so there are typos and I am only a little aware of them

It was a long day at work for Patton Beckett. The stress of working in the mental health field tended to get to him occasionally.  
On top of his inability to concentrate, which had only been getting worse and worse with his ever-changing sleep habits, he felt disillusioned and unmotivated to go to work, and he was starting to get headaches that made him feel like laying on the couch and crying for the next decade.   
After googling his symptoms (which at first he was convinced by WebMD that he might be dying), he came across a page for burnout. At first Patton had rolled his eyes.  
‘I’m not burnt out,’ he told himself, ‘because I have patience with clients and I haven’t had a breakdown or something.’ (Which, if he was in his right mind, would have been absolutely ridiculous because he had previously recognized job burnout in people with his exact symptoms before).   
If Patton knew anything about himself, it was that the best course of action would be to spend time with people he loved. And that directly translated to his only family member in the state: his son. And it was rather hit or miss if Virgil would want to do anything.

It was Thursday afternoon.   
Three days since the last PTA meeting.   
A full 4 hours since the last text from Logan.   
8 hours since he had hugged his son.

Patton knew the “dangers of double texting,” but decided to do it anyway.   
“Hope your classes are going well! Drive safe on your way home, okay?”  
‘Oh no I should have sent something a little cooler. That was such a dad text.’ Patton thought, shaking his head and putting the phone back into his bag.  
Patton had been texting back and forth with Logan until around 11 that morning, when suddenly replies slowed to a complete halt. He was having a lot of fun talking to Logan and learning all of his likes and dislikes; His favorite thing was when they had something in common. Like their favorite color: blue. Sure, they enjoyed different shades, but it was still blue, and that’s what mattered to him.  
After realizing how late he was to pick up his son, Patton said a quick goodbye to his boss, Dr. Picani, and headed out the door.   
Once he got to his car, however, he just stared at his phone. He knew he should put the phone away, put the keys in the ignition, and get going, but all he could do was stare a his phone.   
He craved communication and closeness.  
Patton only realized he was wasting time when he watched Dr. Picani’s car pull out of the parking lot. 

The drive was uneventful, luckily. Patton had never experienced the autopilot sensation of distracted driving in a familiar routine before that day, and he couldn’t say he enjoyed it. By the time he regained his focus, he was only a block from the school, and couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if there had been any deviation in the regular route. 

“I’m sorry I’m so late, Virge. Kept losing track of the time.” Patton admitted, walking over to where Virgil was sat by the flagpole. He had debated lying and saying he had an appointment go long, or a meeting, but determined that it wasn’t fair to his son.   
“It’s alright. I did my homework while I waited.”  
“Really? What subjects did you have homework for today?” Patton asked, genuinely interested in something for the first time that afternoon.  
“Reading and some math.”   
“Was it tough?” Patton asked, feeling slightly more guilty that he wasn’t available to help when he should have.   
“A little, but I learned a lot.” He admits, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

“That’s my boy; keep looking on the bright side!” Patton gushed, tousling his child's hair just a little. Virgil's hands instinctively flew up to cover his head, but upon remembering the familiar action, he settled for just fixing his hair a bit. 

Patton tended to feel rather guilty when an interaction like this happened. He didn’t hold it against himself too much, really; He just felt upset that he was overstepping boundaries with his favorite human. 

Of course, nobody else could see what had happened: they all just saw a child embarrassed of his father's affection.  
But Patton knew, and he should have thought before moving a palm towards the child so suddenly. He just failed to remember in his burned out haze, 

“Sorry, kiddo. I’ll work on that.” Patton apologized, feeling anxious and nauseous internally: He masked it with a weak smile. Virgil offered a small smile in return.   
“Me too.” Virgil said, grabbing his father's hand and placing it on top of his own head, as if it were a hat. “See? Already making improvements.” 

Patton takes his hand away lightly.  
“Virge, you don’t have to try to push yourself to be more open to contact. You’re perfect just the way you are, and you’re making amazing progress already.”  
“But I thought you wanted me to-”  
“Aw, kiddo. You know I’m a hugger, but above all else, I just want you to be comfortable.”  
“...I’m sorry.” the dark haired boy sighed, kicking pebbles again.  
“No need to apologize, kiddo. We all have our own comfort zones and limits.” Patton smiled.   
Virgil quickly hugged his dad and pulled away, looking embarrassed (as many 9 year olds do). “There’s nothing wrong with hugs. As long as I know beforehand.”   
As they walked back to the car, Patton couldn’t help but check his phone again.   
No new messages. Fuck.   
He wanted to send another text but figured anything more would be irritating.   
“You know what? Fuck it. He’s professional and I’m sure he has his phone volume off while teaching,” Patton thinks, typing up a new message.   
“Hey, Logan. Just wanted to,” he stopped. Patton stared at his phone. ‘Just wanted to what? Beg for attention? Cry about my day?” He sighed, deleting the text and shoving the phone back into his pocket. 

Once they got home, Virgil immediately dropped his bag on the couch and wandered off to go play with his cat. Patton wasn’t quite sure what her actual name was when they first got her, considering they called her so many versions of ‘kitty,’ but Virgil did in fact name her Spider.   
Patton had been startled many times upon hearing “spider!” get called across the house-- he didn’t like spiders, truth be told-- only to find out Virgil was looking for the small, furry, black cat. 

So with the kid and the cat off somewhere else in the house, Patton was painfully alone again. After he unintentionally disrespected Virgil's boundaries, he was concerned he’d overstep again and instead decided to let him have space to unwind. 

Patton slowly crawled into his bed, still wearing his work clothes. Laying on top of the comforter and everything, he let out a quiet sigh with so much force that it felt like his chest may collapse on itself. 

The final option against his loneliness: call Dee.  
Patton rarely ever talked to his twin brother anymore. Once Patton left for college, they basically became strangers, and Pat wasn’t sure how. They called once a year: on their birthday. It was uncertain if they'd be able to fly home for Christmas or any other holiday, and when one was able to make it home the other usually had something come up.  
Virgil had been excited when he learned about his dad's extensive family, but Patton had not gotten around to bringing Virgil back to see their family aside from when he was initially introduced.  
Patton mustered up all of his strength and dialed Dees number. It rang multiple times.  
Patton ended the call when he was relatively certain Dee was too busy to pick up and the ringing just hurt his heart. 

 

‘Great. Now you’re crying and you’re hyper aware of your own breathing and you’re a mess. What if Virgil needs you?’  
Patton breathed in for 4 seconds and attempted to hold his breath, but it just got more difficult to hold it; It was even harder to breath out for 8 seconds straight.   
Gaining control over his own breathing again was exhausting and Patton fell asleep; he woke up shortly after, feeling even less energized than he had before. He whipped up a quick pasta for Virgil before heading back to his room to try and cry out his stress again. 

He started to doze off, sinuses painful and head pounding, when his phone lit up.   
7:40pm  
“Sorry for missing your text. Grading in my office is a figurative nightmare because I don’t have reception there and for some reason my phone doesn’t receive the text messages for over half an hour after I leave.”  
He sighs and grabs the bottle of naproxen from his nightstand to ease his headache. He’s trying to think of a response when-- miraculously-- Logan double texts.  
“How are you tonight?”  
“Alright. How are you?” Patton replies, not wishing to be honest with Logan or go any further; after all, not every ‘how are you’ is an open invitation to vent.   
“Are you sure you’re alright? Complete honesty?”  
Patton was stressed to the point of being sick; He had cried himself into the worst headache imaginable.  
“I’m alright. Not great, but I’ll survive.” he admitted. It was hard to remain even the slightest bit positive.  
“Can I call you?”  
Patton panicked a bit. He had wanted somebody to call him all day-- he wouldn’t have been opposed to an invitation to cuddle either, if he was honest-- but on the other hand, if Logan called he would be able to tell that Patton hadn’t been alright after all. 

“Sure. I sound a little worse for wear though.”

A few moments later, Patton's phone began chiming quietly.


End file.
